


All According To Plan

by ChocoholicFangirl



Series: Daisuga Week 2015 [3]
Category: Haikyuu!!
Genre: Alternate Universe - Coffee Shops & Cafés, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-04
Updated: 2015-12-04
Packaged: 2018-05-04 21:51:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,183
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5349785
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChocoholicFangirl/pseuds/ChocoholicFangirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>For Daisuga Week 2015</p><p><b>Day 5</b>: Cliches. Choose any cliche/overdone trope and do what you will with it.</p><p>
  <em>It wasn’t as though Koushi was trying to set Kuroo up with a random hot stranger. In fact, Koushi had thought that Kuroo would be self-aware enough to settle things himself.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>But day after day, week after week, Kuroo went to that same coffeeshop (frequently dragging Koushi with him), almost always when the Target was there. Kuroo didn’t even drink coffee. He would hesitate at the counter, scratching his head and staring at the menu, until finally ordering a cookie or a croissant. Then he would sit down in a booth—always the same one, facing the Target’s usual seat near the counter—and stay there for no particular reason, with an open book that he hadn't made any progress on for two months.</em>
</p><p>
  <em>It was clear to Koushi that this intervention was necessary.</em>
</p>
            </blockquote>





	All According To Plan

**Author's Note:**

> Once again, shoutout to [Lomeki](http://lomeki.tumblr.com), because this fic probably wouldn't even have gotten written if it wasn't for her.

“Let’s go over Operation Get Kuroo Laid again!” Bokuto shouted (Bokuto, as a rule, never spoke normally if he could shout instead). He vaulted over the back of the couch to land between Akaashi and Koushi. “You’re leaving to meet him in ten minutes, right?”

Not for the first time, Koushi regretted letting Bokuto in on the Plan. It was a miracle that he managed to keep his mouth shut for this long, and that name was ridiculous. He should have made sure Bokuto wasn’t in the apartment when Koushi came to ask for Akaashi’s help. Or maybe he should’ve just asked Oikawa, but Koushi could never be sure Oikawa wouldn’t decide to add something of his own.

No, even Bokuto was a safer option than Oikawa, so Koushi sighed and took out the bullet-point list again. “In ten minutes, I walk to the coffeeshop that Kuroo really likes.”

Akaashi sighed his _are we really doing this_ sigh and closed the book he was reading.

“I’ll wait for the Target to order, then order an iced mocha immediately after him,” Koushi continued. He’d done his research, watched the barista enough to know that he always tried to minimize the time he had to spend on his feet. The two drinks would be finished at the same time, which was imperative to the Plan. “Then I’ll text Akaashi that I’ve ordered and returned to our table, and Akaashi will call me.”

Bokuto turned around to say something, only for Akaashi to cover his mouth. “Yes, Bokuto-san. I know what I’m supposed to do.”

“Then, we will hold a conversation while I’m pacing the area between the Target and the counter; Kuroo will go get my drink for me.” Koushi flipped the page. There was a complex diagram in which Koushi had plotted out the the best configuration to optimize the chances for a successful meet-cute. “Then while Kuroo is walking towards me, I’ll bump into him hard enough that he’ll spill his drink on the Target, and then—”

“Suga-san,” Akaashi interrupted; he had a disapproving frown, a slightly perturbed look like he couldn’t believe he agreed to this. “Are you sure this is a good idea?”

“How can it not be?” Bokuto shouted, clutching his heart in betrayal. “We’re getting Kuroo laid, _how can it not be a_ —”

Koushi cut him off before he could get too far. “Akaashi, do you not trust my abilities as a matchmaker?”

Akaashi’s eyes slid to Bokuto. “I _do_ trust you, but—”

“Then what’s the problem?” Koushi glanced at his phone. “Look, it’s show time.”

 

* * *

 

It wasn’t as though Koushi was trying to set Kuroo up with a random hot stranger. In fact, Koushi had thought that Kuroo would be self-aware enough to settle things himself.

But day after day, week after week, Kuroo went to that same coffeeshop (frequently dragging Koushi with him), almost always when the Target was there. Kuroo didn’t even drink coffee. He would hesitate at the counter, scratching his head and staring at the menu, until finally ordering a cookie or a croissant. Then he would sit down in a booth—always the same one, facing the Target’s usual seat near the counter—and stay there for no particular reason, with an open book that he hadn't made any progress on for two months.

It was incredibly clear to Koushi that this intervention was necessary.

Koushi did his research on the Target, too, as much as he could. (No, he didn’t _stalk_ his friend’s potential boyfriend. It’s called people-watching. Person-watching. Intensive targeted observation.) The Target was probably also a student at the University of Tokyo, judging from his textbooks (Organic Chemistry, Biology—maybe a premed student?), so probably about the same age as Kuroo. He was pretty good-looking, too, strong arms and legs and other various features—definitely Kuroo’s type, if Kuroo and Bokuto’s thing back in high school was any indication.

And Koushi once caught sight of him helping an old lady cross the street. He was probably the kind of person who would stop to help a child reach something or pick up someone’s wallet and return it. That definitely earned him a lot of points in Koushi’s book. Not that Koushi kept a book of that sort. Not at all.

(Look, he liked keeping track of how his friends were doing, okay?)

Kuroo had spoken to the Target three times, at least while Koushi was there to see. Two instances involved them passing each other and murmuring “Excuse me” politely. Once, when they were in line next to each other, Kuroo asked the Target what he recommended, and the Target responded with “I just drink black coffee.” As far as Koushi knew, Kuroo didn’t know the Target’s name, and didn’t seem particularly interested in moving forward with this possible relationship.

But Koushi had this down to a science, and the odds of getting Bokuto and Akaashi together had been far worse. If all went according to plan, soon Koushi would be celebrating a job well done and moving on to Asahi.

 

* * *

 

So they were on step five and it looked like everything was going well. Koushi had confidence in his calculations; he remembered all the details of the Target he’s recorded in his notebook, how it often took him a minute or two to pause in his reading to get up for his drink; how he would walk to the counter without seemingly seeing anything, his eyes blank (college does that to you); add to that Kuroo, who usually paused to speak to the barista for a few seconds, and Koushi found a perhaps seventy percent chance of it working in some way (with a margin of error of five percent).

“I think it might actually work on the first try,” Koushi said to Akaashi.

“First try?” Akaashi’s voice was calm. “How many did it take with me and Bokuto?”

Koushi laughed, a little awkwardly. Bokuto’s actions had been hard to predict: the Target this time, by contrast, was clearly a creature of habit. “Never mind that, it'll definitely go well this time.”

And, of course, that was when it all went to shit.

What happened was this: Variable A (Kuroo’s conversation with the barista) veered a little beyond the time Koushi had allotted; the barista had dyed his hair a pale yellow, and both Kuroo and Koushi had been staring at him discreetly.

But that was okay, because Variable B (the time between the Target’s name being called and the Target getting up) was also larger than expected; the Target picked up a phone call and remained seated, speaking into his phone. “Hi Mom. Yes, I remember—”

“Sugawara-san?” Akaashi said, and Koushi realized that he’d allowed himself to be distracted. Focus, Koushi. “Are you still there?”

“Yes, of course,” Koushi said, turning to see if Kuroo was still talking to the barista (he was; the barista was somewhat reluctantly showing Kuroo the game he was playing in between orders). “What were you saying?”

Akaashi didn’t sigh, exactly, but Koushi still heard it, still recognized the _why me_ exhale. “I’m still not sure this is a good idea.”

“Why not?” Koushi turned back to look at the Target, who was now standing up while still on the phone. “Do you think the Target’s not good enough for Kuroo? I think he is. He smiles when he’s talking to his mother. And you agreed that he’s pretty hot.”

“Well—” Akaashi hesitated. Koushi waited, passing the Target nonchalantly. “I’m not sure Kuroo-san would appreciate your meddling.”

“Kuroo needs someone to meddle, Akaashi,” Koushi repeated what he said the first three times Akaashi had mentioned this. “If I just left him to his own devices he would never do anything. We’ve been through all of this before. Seriously, what is it?”

“Well—”

And that was when he turned around and noted three things: 1. Kuroo was still at the counter, was now basically sitting on it, and the barista was looking increasingly harassed; 2. The Target was checking his phone with one hand while holding his coffee in the other; and 3. Koushi and the Target were suddenly only three inches apart.

“Sugawara-san, I think that you—”

And then the Target rammed into Koushi and they fell over and the rest of Akaashi’s words were lost forever.

 

* * *

 

Okay, so Koushi miscalculated. A lot. He miscalculated some extraneous circumstantial variables, he miscalculated his own pacing trajectory, and most of all he seriously miscalculated _how hot the Target was_.

Thus far, Koushi had been sure to be inconspicuous, to only glance at the Target from a distance or out of the corner of his eyes, but now he had an up-close view and his eyes, his jawline, his dark skin were all so close and Koushi could feel the muscle in the Target’s arms and chest pressing down on him and the Target’s gaze, at once surprised and fascinated and this could not get any worse—

And then the Target blushed, the red spreading to the tips of his ears and down his neck, and Koushi caught himself thinking _fuck he’s cute_.

That—that was a new development he didn’t really plan for.

“Oh my God,” the Target breathed, his eyes wide; then he was quickly scrambling off Koushi, brushing at the coffee on his own shirt and looking down at Koushi’s matching stain. “Oh my God, I am _so sorry_ —”

Koushi allowed himself to be helped to his feet, his revelation still ringing in his ears. The two of them managed to mop up the coffee (Koushi glanced at the barista and found him now fully engaged in conversation, seemingly determined not to notice the mishap), the Target apologizing the entire time.

“Here,” the Target said, reaching to pat some napkins against Koushi’s chest.

Koushi’s heart was stuttering and this situation must stop _immediately_. “It’s okay,” Koushi managed, his voice somewhat breathy. “I’ll wash it in the bathroom.”

“Oh, uh.” The Target drew his hand back quickly; his face seemed to grow even redder, if that was possible. “That’s—That’s a good idea. I’ll do that too.”

Which should probably have warned Koushi, but he didn’t properly process this until they were both in the bathroom and the Target pulled his shirt off over his head and Koushi suddenly found his mouth very dry. Not two seconds ago he had been ready to run from this establishment and never come back again, but now—

“I’m Suga,” Koushi blurted.

The Target blinked, smiled a little shyly ( _God he’s cute, this is so unfair_ ). “Daichi. Nice to meet you.” He blinked again. “Not that that it’s nice that I got your shirt dirty—shit, did the coffee burn you? It was really hot—”

 _Probably because he wasn’t planning on dumping it on someone_ , Koushi said to himself, now starting to feel very stupid and very guilty. “It’s fine,” he said; he had to clear his throat a little, and felt his face heat up. “I’m—it’s fine. Nice to meet you too.”

And it was karma, probably, for Koushi’s past insistence on turning his friends’ lives into rom-coms, but when their eyes met, Koushi absolutely melted.

(The whole shirtless thing also really helped.)

 

* * *

 

“I can’t believe you _allowed him to do this_ ,” Kuroo said, pressing a hand to his heart. “To me! Your best friend! Bokuto, Akaashi, how could you?”

Koushi kicked him under the table. “Can we stop talking about this now?”

“Of course not,” Kuroo shot back, his trademark smirk returning. “I am never going to let you live this down. Ever.”

Koushi kicked him again.

“Shouldn’t we leave?” Akaashi asked, warming his hands with his coffee.

Bokuto frowned. “No! We’re preparing Suga for his date!”

“I’m sure Sugawara-san doesn’t need your advice, and Sawamura-san might be here any—”

And of course Daichi—he’d told Koushi his given name right off the bat, how cute was that?—chose that moment to step through the door. He spotted Koushi and smiled, and Koushi kicked Kuroo again to disguise his surprise. “Get out,” he hissed.

“Still can’t believe you thought he’s my type,” Kuroo whispered back, raising his eyebrows (well, one eyebrow for sure; what the other eyebrow was doing no one will ever know).

“Hey,” Daichi said, arriving at their table before Koushi could conceivably murder Kuroo and hide his body.

Koushi swallowed. Daichi had clearly dressed up just for meeting him—it’s not a date it’s not a date it’s not a date—yet—and Koushi found that so adorable he’s slightly disgusted by himself. “Hi.”

“We were just leaving,” Akaashi said, looking at Bokuto meaningfully, and in short order the three were out the door. Koushi could see Kuroo doubling over in laughter through the window.

“Your friends?” Daichi asked, sliding into the booth.

“Maybe.” Koushi looked at Daichi, at his small nervous smile and fidgeting hands and, well, maybe the plan didn’t work out, but it didn’t seem like it ended very badly, either. “Can I buy you a drink?”

 

* * *

 

Tetsurou pulled out his phone and sent a text to Oikawa: _Success_.

**Author's Note:**

> (Alternate Title: Suga's Very Thirsty)
> 
> Kind of a weird interpretation of cliches, but I'm a sucker for meet cutes and coffeeshop AUs (they're what initially got me so into Daisuga) and also people being blind to their own feelings so here we are
> 
> (Once again, feedback on any typos or mistakes I made is very welcome, I have a [tumblr](http://chocoholicfangirl.tumblr.com) so please come talk to me, I do not need to face the reality of finals week right now)


End file.
